


Sweet Like Whipped Cream

by girlmarauders



Category: Gold Motel, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmarauders/pseuds/girlmarauders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon likes working at Starbucks. Greta likes setting her friends up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Like Whipped Cream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ermengarde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ermengarde/gifts).



Brendon actually likes working in Starbucks. It makes enough to pay the rent on his midlevel apartment, his health is covered and it’s a job he can do with his high school diploma. He works weekdays with Greta and gets Saturday afternoons and Sundays off so Greta can traumatise the college kids. He gets to talk to people all day and take home the sandwiches that reach their due date. He likes it, for all the commuters in the morning sometimes give him dirty looks. Fuck them, he reminds himself, his manager is his best friend and no one cares if he sings show tunes during the slow moments.

“Greta, babe, I’m sorry I’m late, the bus was late.” Brendon shouts into the back of the Starbucks, ducking under the half-up front metal grate. Greta sticks her head around the door and smiles.

“Bren, it’s fine. I opened up. You owe me an hour sometime.”

“I’ll do the counters. Thanks, babe.” Brendon throws his shoulder bag under one of the counters and starts flipping switches and pulling milk bottles out of the fridge.

He lived with Greta and Greta’s guy friends the first year he lived in California and Greta had got him the job. She hadn’t been manager then, just the girl who worked weekends while she tried to pay for his floundering career as a singer. Brendon doesn’t live with her anymore and she’s no longer in a band but the Starbucks stuck.

Brendon finishes getting the front ready and Greta brings through trays of pitchers and mugs and bottles of cream, before unlocking the front grate and pushing it the rest of the way up. They have their first customer only minutes later and the day has begun. Brendon likes how hectic his job is; it doesn’t give him time to dwell in between thoughts.

  
&&&

  
Half way through his shift, Greta gently bumps his elbow when he’s moving between drinks.

“Hey, bakery delivery’s here. It’s almost your break, why don’t you go sign for it and then take your break?” She says, already taking the cup he’s holding from him and going through the motions of making the drink scrawled on the side of the cup. Brendon gives her a funny look. He knows her break’s due before his and they’re in the middle of a rush. “Just go with it Bren,” Greta says over the noise of the steamer and Brendon shrugs. Fine. He’s not in charge.

The delivery’s already stacked inside, just a bored looking young guy leaning against the door of the small truck. He’s cute, if you like the “shaggydog” kind of look.

“Hey!” Brendon says brightly. The guy shrugs and hands him a clipboard. Brendon frowns. “C’mon man,” he says, as he signs his name and flips through the paperwork. Greta would kill him if they got all their bakery stuff delivered wrong because he was too lazy to check some papers. “I’m Brendon. If you’re delivering for the next couple weeks, I can’t just call you Beard Dude every time.” Brendon tries one of his winning smiles when he hands the clipboard back.  
The side of the guy’s mouth twitches and his eyes dance. There, Brendon knew he’d be cute if was smiling.

“I’m Spencer,” he says. “and yeah, I’m driving the truck till end of July.”

“Nice to meet you. Drive safe.” Brendon says and waves from the loading dock when Spencer pulls himself into the small truck and drives away.

  
&&&

  
Greta sends him out for the bakery delivery every time it comes for a week and a half before Brendon finally clocks it. He can’t be blamed for not figuring it out earlier; the delivery only comes every other day and she makes him take his break like normal every non-delivery day.

“Greta,” he says, when they’re closing up on Thursday, “do you have a problem with the delivery guy?”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about Brendon,” Greta says, from behind the coffee machine. Brendon can hear the stupid grin in her voice.

“Greta, quit it, you know what I mean. You always make me take the delivery.”

“Spencer, he’s a good looking guy isn’t he?” Greta says, turning to the sink when Brendon tries to get a look at her by sticking his head around the machine. He pauses.

“I guess so. He’s cute. That’s not the point I’m making.”

“C’mon Brendon babe, you’re a smart guy. I’m sure you can figure it out.” Greta says and laughs when he overexaggerates his pout and frown.

“Only you and my kindergarten teacher have ever thought I’m a smart guy,” Brendon says, giving up on figuring out Greta’s maniacal smile and starts the dishes. She laughs again.

Its 30 minutes later, just as she’s closing the metal grate over the store front that Brendon jumps and turns to glare at Greta.

“Hey, you were trying to set me up!”

Brendon loves Greta’s laugh. She’s never seemed concerned about who hears it or how loud she is. They spend the walk to the bus station debating the relative benefits and disadvantages of dating a guy with a beard.

&&&

“Spencer and I hung out when I was touring. He was a drummer.” Greta says on the bus

“Was?” Brendon asks.

“His band broke up.” Greta makes a face. “It happens. He says the driving gig’s just temporary until he finds somewhere else to drum.” She shrugs. “I liked him, he’s a nice guy. Plus, he’s cute. I thought you guys would get on.”

Brendon snorts.

“We’ve barely spoken 20 words to each other. He pulls up, I sign the paperwork, he goes away. He is cute though, I’m not about to disagree.”

Greta grins.

“I know right??”

  
&&&

  
Brendon screws up and makes an extra strawberries and cream frappuccino just before his break and sticks it in the fridge. Greta won’t drink it and sugary drinks give Brendon massive headaches. When Greta winks at him, he grabs it out of the fridge and grabs a straw on the way to the loading dock.

Spencer hops out of the truck and Brendon watches his shirt ride up with a smile. Greta was right, he’s totally cute.

“Hey, I made an extra drink by accident. Greta and I won’t drink it so you should have it.” He shoves the drink into Spencer’s hand as he takes the clipboard, not giving Spencer an extra second to refuse it.

He signs quickly, aware of Spencer looking at the top of his head.

“If you like that,” Brendon says, nodding at the drink in Spencer’s hand, “you should actually come in some time. We’re quiet after 3, you should come by. Greta wants to see you.” He shrugs, too quickly, and shoves the signed paperwork into Spencer’s free hand. “See you around.” He hadn’t even remembered to check the paperwork Greta always busts him about.

  
&&&

  
The next day, around three, Greta starts making enthusiastic eyes at him over the coffee machine and, when she thinks people aren’t looking, pointing like a maniac. Brendon rolls his eyes. They work at Starbucks. People are always looking.

Brendon ignores her until Spencer appears in front of him when Brendon’s handing back drinks. Brendon smiles at him. There’s no other drinks queued up so Brendon leans on the counter.

“Hey, you came.”

Spencer smiles and then shuffles nervously.

“Yeah. You asked.” He shrugs. “Plus, you know, Greta works here. It can’t be all that bad.” He smiles.

Brendon laughs.

“Yeah, you know, I’m a tool of the corporate empire. But then so are you, mr. small time truck driver.” He looks over his shoulder. “Greta, can I take my break?” He asks Greta’s back. She’s doing dishes and waves a soapy hand.

“Sure, go ahead. Take your apron off.”

Brendon reaches behind his head and undoes his the ties of his apron, stuffing it under the counter.

“C’mon, let’s sit down.”

Spencer picks a table with two chairs in the back corner, where it’s quiet and dark. He shuffles nervously before Brendon sits down, which makes Brendon hide his smile behind his drink.

He seems nervous and shy but when Brendon asks him about his drums, about touring with Greta, he cracks a smile a mile wide and fills up Brendon’s whole break with funny stories and enthusiasm.

  
&&&

  
Spencer starts coming by every week on the same day during their slow hour so Brendon starts “accidentally” making extra drinks every day around three and Greta pretends she doesn’t notice. He and Spencer trade smiles over the paperwork on delivery days and chat about music during Brendon’s breaks on Thursdays.

“My friends are having a party this weekend,” Brendon tells Spencer at the end of one of their semi-date break chats. “You should come, Greta’s hosting.”

Spencer has a killer smile when he shows it off. It makes Brendon’s stomach go jumpy and fluttery inside. It makes him want to kiss this guy, this dorky guy who likes Star Wars and talks about his dog like it has real feelings.

“I live near Greta, actually.” Spencer says and quirks one side of his mouth. “Should I bring something?”

Brendon laughs.

“I think I’m bringing a bag of chips. There’s no pressure.”

“Cool, I’ll see you there.”

Spencer hangs around drinking his coffee for another half an hour while Brendon works. When he clears the table and takes his mug, their fingers brush and Spencer shows off his smile.

  
&&&

  
Greta’s parties are always great. Her apartment is small enough to feel chilled but big enough and with enough comfy chairs that you don’t feel crowded. She’s somehow tricked Eric into cooking something vegetarian and delicious and full of beans. Brendon doesn’t know what it is, just he’s had two helpings piled on a paper plate and shovelled into his mouth with corn chips. He and Spencer has been sharing one of Greta’s big chairs, Spencer curled up in the chair and Brendon perched on the arm with his toes under Spencer’s thigh.

It feels comfortable, like they’re been this close forever. They have a lot of mutual friends and Greta and Spencer get on like a house on fire. Brendon drinks a lot of wine and feels full, happy, at home. He looks at Spencer and Greta and all his friends and remembers he’s come a long way from graduating high school without a home to go back to.

Spencer stands and raises his eyebrows at Brendon, a silent “you coming?”. Brendon nods and grabs his coat from the back of the chair. Greta gives him a long wink when he waves at her on the way out.

He’s feeling a little sloppy from the wine and he likes the feeling of Spencer’s arm around him, Spencer’s arm under his fingertips.

“Tonight was nice,” he sighs, leaning his head against Spencer’s shoulder. He can feel them slide into step with each other, their shoes tapping down the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” Spencer says quietly. “I liked it.”

“I’m glad.” Brendon says. He feels soft, sort of sleepy. Spencer buzzes them into an apartment building and guides them up a few set of stairs, letting his hand drop to hold Brendon’s.

“You gonna kiss me before you invite me in?” Brendon says, half laughing, when Spencer leans on his apartment door. Spencer laughs and shakes his hair over his eyes.

“I was gonna be smooth and try when we got inside. Maybe make you a coffee, since you’re always making mine.”

Brendon’s stomach does a somersault but he steps forward, closing the distance between the two of them. Letting Spencer lean the rest of the way in feels like the easiest thing in the world.


End file.
